


kevin oh my god he’s still crying over ben platt

by scorpiusismypatronus



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, FBI agent watching me - Freeform, Gen, i dont dfckfign nkow, i dont know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiusismypatronus/pseuds/scorpiusismypatronus
Summary: hi I legit cried over ben platt in front of my laptop take this shitty ass fic I s2g—





	kevin oh my god he’s still crying over ben platt

**Author's Note:**

> id trade my parents for ben platt

Title: 

Summary: hi I legit cried over ben platt in front of my laptop today take this shitty ass fic I s2g—

Notes: id trade my parents for ben platt

Tags: I dont kNOw, crack, crack treated seriously, FBI agent watching me

 

“Kevin, oh my god, come here, you gotta see this shit,” says the FBI agent watching me.

“What?” Kevin asks, slipping over in a swivel chair and looking over my agent’s shoulder. “That kid still crying?”

“Yeah. It’s been five hours.”

“Why’s he crying?”

My agent looks Kevin dead in the eyes, grey eyes meeting blue.

“Ben Platt.”

“You mean Pitch Perfect, Book of Mormon, Dear Evan Hansen, Beyonce-loving _and Passover_ Ben Platt?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Kevin smiles and begins to tear up, staring at the screen with my face on it and then the one that shows what I’m doing.

“God, he’s so beautiful,” Kevin says, still staring intently at the photos of Ben Platt.

“What the hell, dude? You’re like. Forty. He’s fifteen.”

“No, I mean Ben Platt.”

My agent squints at the screen. “You know what, you’re right.”

Kevin wipes away a stray tear, watching as I drag another photo of my singing Jewish father to my desktop and begin to sob into my keyboard, overwhelmed with love.

My agent finally breaks and sobs with me, overwhelmed as well.

I scroll down, and, upon seeing the picture of Ben Platt with his “trans rights are human rights” cast, begin crying even harder, crying so hard I can barely breathe.

“Is this kid okay?” My agent hears Kevin ask.

“No, trust me, I watch his breakdowns all the time.” They wipe away another tear, tearing their gaze away from me and back to Kevin.

“You tried texting him?”

“Nah, Kev, we aren’t at that stage in our relationship yet.”

“Ah, got it,” Kevin said, handing them a Twizzler. “Is he — is he crying harder now?”

“God, it’s the trans rights tweet again,” my agent says, pulling a bag of popcorn out of a secret basket under the desk and eating a handful. 

“This kid’s a mess,” said Kevin.

“Shut up, that’s my son. He just wants to feel supported,” my FBI agent says. “And if Ben Platt’s the only one who can do that for him, well, that’s sad, but Jesus, Kevin, let the kid live.”

I switch tabs and they gasp in unison.

“IS THAT LAURA DREYFUSS?” Kevin practically screeches.

“Please don’t start crying,” my FBI agent says, although god only knows if they’re speaking to me or to Kevin.

Kevin blows his nose. “I’M FINE,” he sobs.

“Oh my god,” my FBI agent says. “SHARON, COME LOOK AT THIS MESS.”


End file.
